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Not Going Anywhere
for HYPERfocused
Author's Notes: First: Many many thanks to merey, she made this so much better - THANK YOU!
Merry Christmas!
Not Going Anywhere
Ray's life sucks.
It hadn't always. It's sucked for two months, fifteen days, and -- let's see, Ray takes a look at the clock on the wall -- twenty-one hours, and eight minutes. That's how long it had been since Ray had crossed the border back into the US of A, his homeland. Home sweet home.
But it was never as bad as at this precise moment.
Ray is standing in the middle of the 27th precinct, holding a small piece of paper in his hand, and staring at it in disbelief. The ground beneath his feet is suddenly shaky, uneven.
Pulling a piece of paper out of an ordinary hat shouldn't be so shocking. At all.
`Fraser.'
That's all it says.
`Fraser.'
Frannie, who's holding the hat in front of Ray, tries to get a look at the paper, wondering what made Ray turn so pale.
"Fraser," she whispers, her free hand touching her chest. "We though it might--" she starts explaining when Ray turns on his heel, leaving her standing there without a word. He's still holding the piece of paper, staring at it like it might have the solution to all the universe's problems.
`Fraser.'
Ray feels like bawling. He does not need this. This is just another reminder that Fraser is not here, not with him, not even in this country any more. He makes a fist and crumples up Fraser's name.
Fraser is in those Northwest Areas of his, patrolling the tundra like he was born to do. And nobody there would make Fraser draw Ray's name out of a stupid hat, telling him to buy him a Christmas gift. For one, it's too cold up there now to use a hat for anything but placing it on your head to keep you warm, and two...
Just because!
Ray rushes out of the station, shoving past Dewey without noticing, and gets into his car to go home. Home, where he's safe; where he can sit on his couch with a beer in his hand, cursing the day he realized that he would rather freeze his ass off in Canada than be in his indoor plumbing providing apartment in Chicago. Ever again.
Yeah, you heard that right.
Stanley Raymond Kowalski, Chicago born and bred, would set aside central heating, hot showers, and even his TV to be with Benton Fraser in Freezerland. That's how deep he fell down the rabbit hole.
Stupid, Ray knows that. But he couldn't help himself -- falling for people who are way out of his league is one of his specialties. First, there was Stella, who he actually had, for a while, at least. But Fraser? That was stupid even by Ray's standard. But how could he not?
Ray sighs heavily.
Yeah, how could he not fall for Fraser? All his freakiness about how the world should be, making Ray want to be a better person. Even the ridiculous hat, and all it stood for, was endearing.
But he, at least, had known what he was getting himself into. He knows Fraser like nobody else does. He definitely knows Fraser better than all those women going crazy over the bright red uniform, the hat, or over Fraser's $5 words. But all of that is not who Fraser really is. Far from it. It's all a shield to keep people away, to hide behind.
Ray has seen behind the mask. He knows that Fraser can get snappy, outright angry even; he's gotten a glimpse at the man underneath the uniform, and that had sealed the deal.
Love.
Stupid love.
Ray looks at the piece of paper with Fraser's name again.
Last Christmas he'd had to cheat to get Fraser's name. Then, it had been a pleasure seeing Fraser's joy in his present. But now? Ray wouldn't even be there to see Fraser's face, which is a good thing. He'd left Fraser -- and Canada -- so he wouldn't have to look at Fraser's face anymore. He just couldn't stand it any longer without saying something. Everything.
Fuck!
Just imagining Fraser's face hurts like hell, and Ray takes a huge gulp from is beer bottle, staring at the brown glass with unseeing eyes.
He'd spent some of the best times of his life looking at that face, studying it, learning the meaning of Fraser's words from it. Because as good as Fraser's vocabulary may be, he's not very articulate when it comes to ... certain things.
Oh yeah, Fraser would tell you if he's proud of you or disappointed in you, even that he loves you. But if you only hear the words and you don't see his face you'd never get the whole meaning. And Ray had missed that important piece of information in the beginning of their friendship. He would give everything to see Fraser's face telling him that he loves him, too. The truth has slipped off Ray's tongue once. He'd tried to cover it up, of course, but Fraser had said it right back to him and Ray had missed Fraser's expression. He'd been so busy covering his tracks that he hadn't seen Fraser's face at that precise moment. He could have said it again and paid attention the next time around, but he'd been a chickenshit ever since.
Fraser is the best friend Ray has ever had and ... Ray puts the beer bottle on the table in front of him, taking the piece of paper in both of his hands, his eyes wandering over Fraser's written name. Maybe it's time to face the music and finally take some action.
Yes, Fraser is his friend, and yes, he could lose him completely over this ... but if Ray thinks about it, it seems doubtful; they've gotten past bigger things than a declaration of love. Fraser is an open-minded guy, he has to be. It's even legal in Canada to make this kind of thing official... Dammit! Ray shouldn't even be thinking that far ahead. Maybe Fraser isn't that open-minded after all--maybe he'll go all stiff on him and throw him out on his ear. But at least he would know, then. It would hurt, of course, but maybe he could go on with his life.
Yeah, right.
Ray shakes his head.
A life without Fraser. Without Fraser's frequent phone calls, his letters, telling about his adventures up North, without Fraser's repeated promises to visit him soon.
That'd be living Hell.
But that's where Ray's living right now already, and maybe he could be angry at Fraser for not wanting him, if he got uptight about it. Maybe he could work himself up to hating Fraser, to forget all about him and finally have a life of his own again.
Way to go, Kowalski. Ray gets off his couch. He has a plan now. Maybe, somebody will screw it up -- probably Fraser -- but that really is not important right now. Ray is going to Canada. He's going to face Fraser -- look in his face, actually -- and he will get an answer about what to do with the rest of his life.
~::~::~
Life is easier now that the decision's made. It's not getting any less weird, mind you. Ray had always thought that Fraser attracted the weird cases but ... it's just not true.
It's two days `til Christmas and the police station is crowded with elves. Ray has even seen a reindeer, even if he would never admit it. Santa Claus is yelling the walls down and Ray, he's walking out of here. He winks at Huey, who desperately tries to get a grip on the yelling Santa, while Dewey wrestles with one of the elves.
Not Ray's problem. He has a flight to catch.
~::~::~
O'Hare is even more crowded than the police station, but at least nobody is yelling. Yet. The guy up the row of Ray might start in a second or two if the woman behind him keeps pushing her baggage cart into his heels, while her kid tries to get his chocolate bar all over his suit.
Ray tries to relax, but his shoulders hurt just from being anxious. He hasn't called Fraser to tell him he's coming. In fact, nobody knows that he's going to see Fraser at all. Not even Frannie, who'd been getting on his case ever since Ray had drawn Fraser's name out of the hat. He hadn't bought a Christmas gift either. Ray figured he'd be the present, if Fraser wanted him. If he didn't, not Ray's fault.
Finally, it's Ray's turn at security. He tries to keep patient.
Cigarettes?
No.
Alcohol?
No.
Presents?
No.
Ray has to open his small bag to prove he has nothing on him that's not allowed to bring across the border. And, like he said, there is nothing. Only his hat, scarf and mittens he brought back to Chicago from the Quest. Hopefully Fraser had hung onto Ray's parka. Otherwise Ray would freeze to death. Or buy a new one.
Ray's flight to Toronto is eventless. Just like the one to Edmonton. And Whitehorse. And Inuvik.
Ray is really tired by then and he almost misses his last flight to Tuktoyaktuk. He's the only passenger, and Ray knows the guy. It's the same one who had flown him out of Tuk almost three months ago.
"Ray!" Hank Leonard greets him, smiling brightly. "Didn't know you were coming."
Ray had been in Tuk for a month after their Quest and by that time he has met everybody important to survive up there. Like the town's mechanic who would fix up your car, the only pilot who would get you in and out of town and who is also the guy who owns the town's grocery store.
"Heya, Hank." Ray shakes his hand, taking a passenger seat, not really looking forward to this particular flight.
The plane is pretty small, tiny even, and the wind is blowing strong.
"Buckle up and we are on our way, Ray." Hank is still smiling while Ray reaches for the seatbelt. "We might get into some rough weather," Hank says brightly. "Hold on to your hat."
Rough weather is an understatement, at least in Ray's book. The plane is jumping up and down, and Ray's knuckles are white from keeping a grip on his armrest.
Ray closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths.
"Hang in there, son," comes an encouraging voice from behind him, and Ray turns his head, staring blankly. He hadn't noticed another passenger when he got in. "Benton will appreciate your spending Christmas with him." The man is wearing a ridiculous fur hat on his head, and smiling at Ray.
The guy is standing right behind Ray, touching his shoulder and ray's head is reeling: there is an old guy. Standing. Not buckled up. Not even touching the ground he's standing on. Or Ray, even though he's touching Ray's shoulder in what's probably supposed to be reassuring manner.
Ray closes his eyes again. Jesus, he's losing it.
Before Ray can even think about pointing out to Hank that there is another passenger on board, unbuckled and not touching the ground, they slowly start to descend.
"You made it without losing your lunch!" The guy helps Ray out of the plane, his feet rather unsteady, face pale.
"Thanks."
"The Constable not picking you up?" Hank looks around the airstrip in search for Fraser. But, of course, Fraser is not here, he doesn't know that Ray is coming.
He looks skeptically at Ray.
"I know my way," Ray reassures. "Merry Christmas!"
He grabs for his small bag, puts on his mittens, hat, and scarf -- it has to be minus a hundred, or something -- and turns toward 'Katie's Cafe' which is right around the corner of Tuk's small so-called Airport.
The cafe is almost deserted. Only a few people around, having lunch. It's after eight PM and most people have returned to their homes by now.
"Hey, Kate!" Ray greets the blonde woman who immediately comes around the counter to embrace him.
"Ray!"
"Nice seeing you, too." He smiles brightly, and returns the hug enthusiastically before releasing her.
"Fraser didn't say anything about you visiting," she says, obviously thinking about a way to get back at Fraser about that.
"He doesn't know." Ray shrugs his shoulders nervously. "It's kind of a surprise."
Kate grins, petting Ray's shoulder before she gets back around the counter, reaches for the coffee pot, and places a cup of hot, wonderful smelling coffee in front of Ray. "You know, he's been talking about you a lot."
"Yeah?" Ray looks hopeful at Kate over the brim of his cup.
"Yes. He misses you. We all miss you."
Ray feels a blush creeping up his face and he hunches his shoulders, his head only millimetres over the hot coffee mug.
"Thanks."
"Just telling it like it is, Ray." Kate smiles. "You want to give him call him so he can pick you up from here?"
"Nah." Ray shakes his head. "Figured I'll go out on my own, give him a real surprise showing up on his doorstep."
"I guess you still remember the way."
"Yeah, I do." As if Ray could ever forget. He had helped to build that place. He could probably find the way blindfolded. "Promise to not call him?" Ray asks, finishing his coffee.
"Promise."
"Good. Great. See you around then," Ray says, putting some money on the counter before he places his hat back on, and leaving the warmth of the cafe to face Tuk's winter once again.
Ray crosses the street. He seems to be the only person outside, which suits him fine. It's dark where the light of the few streetlights doesn't reach, and Ray moves carefully along, taking in the sight of the town. He has missed the peacefulness of this place, the space. Ever since he has left Canada he hasn't felt as good as he does now, just walking through the semi-darkness.
Fraser's cabin is only two kilometres out of town and Ray should be able to see the light by now. But he doesn't. Only the light of the moon is reflected by the snow. There is no light on in Fraser's cabin.
Ray reaches the porch and knocks on the front door.
There is no Dief barking behind the door, and no lights come on.
Ray carefully opens the door - there is no lock, of course. Maybe Fraser is sleeping already, but that still doesn't explain the absence of the half-wolf.
Dammit!
Ray lights a candle, moving through the cabin toward Fraser's bedroom.
Nobody home.
Ray's hopes sink. He should have called. Maybe Fraser is with Maggie, his half-sister. It's not like Ray is the only person in Fraser's life.
Maybe Fraser has had the same idea and he is on his way to Chicago.
Maybe...
Ray sinks down into the cushions of Fraser's couch, face in his hands.
"He'll be back soon, son."
Ray head comes up in a rush.
"Who the hell are you?" he demands to know, standing up.
"I thought that would be obvious, Detective."
"Look." He threateningly points two fingers at the guy. "I'm tired, and I'm this close to popping you one if you -"
"Benton always told me about your skill of perception. I guess he was overacting."
"Benton?" Ray frowns now.
"Benton Fraser, my son."
"Your son?"
"Which logically would make me his father, Robert Fraser. Deceased."
"Dead, you mean."
"You could call it that, yes."
"I ..." Ray turns his back, shaking his head. He can't deal with this right now. He has to sleep, he's probably hallucinating. And if not -- Ray walks right into Fraser's bedroom, his jacket sliding off his shoulders and onto the ground as he enters.
"You know, son, a man's bedroom is a rather private place, and--" Ray shuts the door into Fur Hat Guy's face and lies down on Fraser's bed, falling asleep immediately.
~::~::~
Ray awakes with Fraser's scent in his nostrils the next morning, his head buried deep in Fraser's pillow. He sighs.
Home.
It feels like a long time ago when he was still with Stella, when he has felt safe and peaceful being with another person. When he was in love. Ray sighs again, refusing to open up his eyes just yet. This is too good. Maybe with the light coming through the window all of this will disappear, vanish, like his home with Stella.
"No time like the present, son."
Slowly Ray opens one eye then the other one. He looks around and groans. Mister Funny Hat is paying him a visit again. So he wasn't hallucinating the other night at all.
"Up and at it, son," the guy says, looking expectantly at Ray.
Ray grabs for the pillow, covering his head with it. "You're dead, for God's sake!"
"There is no reason to grieve, son." Bob Fraser says. "What's done is done."
Ray pushes the pillow aside and blinks at him.
"I think I'll make some tea," Bob states, like a cup of tea would brighten up Ray's day, and leaves the bedroom.
Ray gets up carefully, looking through the bedroom door into the kitchen, and yes, it looks like the dead guy is preparing tea.
"I need coffee," Ray says, closing his eyes briefly. When he opens them again he spots a duffel bag right beside the door. A packed duffel bag. Fraser's duffel bag.
"Looks like Benton was planning a trip," Bob says, like it isn't obvious, standing in the doorway with two tea cups in his hand, offering one to Ray, which he ignores. "Duty comes always first," he continues. "I've taught him well."
But Ray is not really listening; he's looking at the duffel bag looking as it may jump at him at any second.
Fraser had packed a bag.
Fraser was about to go somewhere, Ray repeats the dead guys words in his head.
But where?
Ray leans down carefully and opens the bag. Jeans. Shirts. Long johns. Nothing in there is telling him anything about Fraser's destination. He could be planning to go anywhere with these clothes.
"Quite a lot of clothing for a mild winter in Chicago." Bob looks over Ray's shoulder with a frown between his eyes. "He's getting soft."
"Chicago?"
"Where else do you think Benton would go for Christmas? I might be dead, but I still pay close attention to what is happening around me. You would do well to do the same."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ray glares at Bob. The guy might be dead but no way is Ray going to let a statement like that slide.
"I'm just saying -"
"I'm not stupid."
"A little narrow-focused, perhaps, but there's nothing wrong with having a purpose, son."
"Maybe he's going to visit Maggie?" Ray gets back on safer ground, conversation-wise, before he really has to pop Fraser's Dad one.
"My daughter is celebrating with my soon-to-be son-in-law," Bob replies, "who, by the way, never asked my permission for her hand." He shakes his head. "I certainly expect better of you."
"Me?" Ray squeaks, his face suddenly hot. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't be coy, son. I know why you're here."
"I'm not talking to you about this." Ray escapes into the kitchen, desperately grabbing for a glass of water.
What Ray really wants is coffee.
He can't have a discussion like this without caffeine.
"I'm not saying that I fully approve of such an alliance," Bob follows Ray, sipping from his tea cup. "I always wished for a grandchild or two," he muses. "But I think Maggie might yet provide me with some."
"Grandkids?" Ray doesn't believe his ears. He's talking with a dead guy. About Fraser. About Fraser and him.
"A man needs--"
Ray runs out the front door, not even stopping to grab a coat, and takes a deep breath of cold air, trying hard to get his head clear.
"Benton is not an easy man." Fraser Dad appears right behind Ray, out of nowhere, of course, and Ray laughs out loud.
"No kidding."
"He is obsessive, overbearing, and possibly even arrogant."
"Fraser is a good man," Ray whispers, facing Fraser's father. "I like who he is," and Bob Fraser smiles likes that's all he wanted to hear from Ray.
"Merry Christmas, son," he says gently and vanishes into thin air.
~::~::~
With Fraser's dad gone, Ray is all alone with his racing heart, filled with hope.
But what does Robert Fraser really know about his son? From what little Fraser has said about him, it doesn't seem like he'd ever cared much about his son when he was still alive.
Ray decides to go with his instinct here. He's rarely wrong when he listens to his gut, and everything here in Fraser's cabin calls out 'home' to him, and damn Fraser if he tries to throw him out. Ray will just refuse to leave.
Ray unpacks Fraser's duffel bag and puts his clothes back in Fraser's dresser in the bedroom, where they belong. Then Ray walks outside, looking an axe, takes one from Fraser's barn and heads outside. He cuts a small tree -- a Fraser Fir, what else? -- heaves it inside and places it right beside the window in Fraser's living room. It's Christmas after all.
Ray makes himself comfortable, and waits.
But Ray was never good at waiting. That hasn't changed at all.
There's a fire going in the fireplace while snow silently falls outside, covering up Ray's footprints. But Ray doesn't notice much about the peaceful scenery, he's pacing up and down the cabin, looking outside the window on each turn.
Where the hell is Fraser?
Fraser's dad had said Fraser was going to Chicago, but obviously he'd gotten distracted by something.. Probably a purse snatcher or a confused moose, or something equally ridiculous -- and now Fraser's out there instead of home, on Christmas, with Ray.
It's getting dark again, the period of daylight this far North is pretty short, and Ray's eyes are heavy, he has worn himself out with pacing and worrying about Fraser out in the wilderness of the Yukon. The fire is warm on Ray's face and he's about to close his eyes when suddenly the cabin door gets opened, and Ray gets a face full of wet, smelly tongue.
"Get off me, Furface." Ray asks, pushing a joyful Diefenbaker away as he sits up on the couch, looking expectantly at Fraser.
Fraser, still standing by the door, looks rather shell-shocked and pale. Not happy, anyhow. Maybe this really wasn't such a good idea, Ray figures. But, in for a penny, in for a pound. Ray did never know when to let go.
"I'm not leaving." Ray states, lifting his chin.
"Of course not, Ray." Fraser takes him very much in stride, in contrast to his shocked face. He's faking, trying to act unsurprised about Ray's presence in his cabin. "Diefenbaker just informed me of an approaching blizzard and we wouldn't want you out there facing the elements."
Ray stands up slowly and deliberately, closing in on Fraser who tries to avoid him by stepping back.
"No, Fraser." Ray shakes his head. "Listen to what I'm actually saying. I am not leaving."
"Yes, Ray." Fraser rubs his eyebrow, still backing away. "My hearing is just fine. I--"
"No, Fraser," Ray interrupts, his eyes fixed on Fraser's now, holding him in place. "You're still not listening."
"But Ray ..."
"I'm not leaving." Ray repeats, trying to get his point across by pure will. "Never."
"Ah. I see. Of course you are very much welcome to--"
"Fraser!" Enough is enough. "Work with me here," Ray grabs Fraser by his forearms, forcing him closer. "I fucking love you, you stupid freak."
Time stops.
Ray's heart is racing, his eyes desperately searching for any clues on Fraser's face. He didn't intend to say the L-word but Ray was never a holding-back kind of guy.
Fraser is not looking at Ray anymore. He's looking anywhere but Ray, and Ray gets it, his blood suddenly running cold. At least he took the risk, laid it all out, and now he knows. He lets go of Fraser's forearms, steps back.
"Guess I'm going to leave after all," he whispers, defeated, heading for the door.
"You said, you wouldn't," Fraser says finally, and Ray turns around, faces Fraser, looking into his eyes. "You just said you'd never leave, Ray," Fraser repeats stubbornly, reaching for him, pulling him closer again.
Fraser may not use the same words as Ray did, maybe he never will, but he doesn't have to. Ray gets the meaning loud and clear anyway. He can see the love in Fraser's face and that's all that really matters. He smiles.
"Okay. I won't." Ray says, letting himself be pulled.
"That's good to know, Ray," Fraser whispers near Ray's ear, holding him close.
"Merry Christmas, Frase."
"Merry Christmas, Ray."
The End
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